


The Pussy Tales #1: Heat Wave

by BradyGirl_12



Category: due South
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, Femslash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Slash, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Series, Series: The Pussy Tales, Sex, Sexual Content, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-02-20
Updated: 1999-02-20
Packaged: 2018-11-10 10:01:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11124867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BradyGirl_12/pseuds/BradyGirl_12
Summary: It's hot, it's steamy...girls just wanna have fun!  Originally posted 9/5/98.





	The Pussy Tales #1: Heat Wave

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. Original pseudonym: Gilda Lily.
> 
> *Well, I recently posted an f/f/f story, "ON HER MAJESTY'S SECRET  
> BED", the first in the TALES OF THE QUEEN'S OWN, a series that will  
> focus on Frannie, Elaine and Meg. In this series, I decided to do  
> something a little different with the ladies.  
> The ultimate irony: my Benny/Ray stories (and upcoming Renny/Ray  
> K.)involve romantic love, foreplay, commitment, etc., all things that  
> women traditionally like in their sex lives. But what if the roles  
> reversed, and a series of stories was done in which women have casual  
> sex just for the sheer pleasure of it, no commitments in sight, or even  
> long-term relationships? Just quickies/hot sex! Works for me! :)  
> Though affection and some sap may come into these stories, the purpose  
> of THE PUSSY TALES will be to explore women's sexuality, no holds  
> barred, and unusual/exciting pairings of all types of the women of DUE  
> SOUTH.  
> Please enjoy!  
>  **Rated NC-17 for f/f sex.**  
>  Comments to: jeanniemarie@sprintmail.com  
> (c) August 23, 1998  
>   
> 

Well, that was it. The bloody air-conditioning was on the blink  
again. Jasmine plucked at her blouse, trying to squirm enough in her  
chair so that she wouldn't melt into it.  
  
The phone range and she cursed under her breath, then put  
sweetness and light into her voice as she said her spiel in both English  
and French. The caller asked a stupid question and hung up in a huff  
at  
the simple answer. Jasmine sighed and wondered if she could play  
American and get a gun and shoot everyone passing by on the street.  
  
"Uh, Jasmine..."  
  
She looked up and smiled at Constable Benton Fraser, who was  
looking a little flushed. Well, why not? He was wearing that damnable  
red serge.  
  
"Yes, Fraser?"  
  
"Hold my calls for about half an hour, will you?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
She watched him go into his office, a frown on her pretty  
features. Fraser rarely requested not to be disturbed. Oh, well. The  
heat was probably getting to him. She came from Toronto and was used  
to  
heat, while he was from the Northwest Territories and was more  
accustomed to sub-zero temperatures.  
  
She began to work on a boring task that nearly put her to sleep  
when  
the door of Fraser's office opened and he started to call,  
"Jasmine!"  
and slumped to the floor.  
  
"Omigod, Fraser! Turnbull, help me!"  
  
The young Mountie was by her side in seconds, helping carry Fraser  
into his office and stretching him out on his couch. Dief whined and  
nudged his human companion.  
  
"What's going on here?" Thatcher demanded, eyes widening at  
the  
sight of the fallen Fraser.  
  
"Constable Fraser has fallen ill, sir," Turnbull said.  
  
"I can see that," she snapped. "Jasmine, call Detective  
Vecchio."  
  
"Right away, Inspector."  
  
Jasmine dialed the Precinct's number.  
  
"Vecchio."  
  
"Detective Vecchio, this is Jasmine Boulet."  
  
"Hi, Jazz." She smiled at his nickname for her. "What's  
up?"  
  
"Constable Fraser has fallen ill."  
  
She heard his sharp intake of breath. "I'll be right over."  
He hung  
up the phone and she guessed he would break some traffic  
rules getting  
here.  
  
A cold compress was applied to Fraser's forehead, and the Mountie  
groaned, restlessly moving his hands. Turnbull was gentle as he said,  
"Please, sir. You must rest." Jasmine was impressed with that  
gentleness. Turnbull was a klutz, but there were worse things.  
  
"Looks like heatstroke," Thatcher commented.  
  
She loosened his collar and unbuttoned his tunic, Turnbull still  
wiping down Fraser's flushed face. In a matter of moments the sound of  
the Riv screeching to a halt in front of the Consulate was heard, then  
he slam of a door and footsteps pounding up the main staircase.  
  
"In here, Detective!" Thatcher called.  
  
Ray rushed in, worry clouding his handsome features. He knelt by  
the couch and said, "Hey, Benny, what's goin' on?"  
  
Blue eyes fluttered open and Fraser croaked, "Ray."  
  
"Yep, I'm here. You weren't standing outside on guard, were you?"  
  
"No, Ray."  
  
"Good. Hmm, looks like a bit too much heat. Let me take you home  
and I'll take care of you."  
  
"Thank you, Ray," Fraser said with a sigh, and Ray and Turnbull  
got Fraser standing up, Ray taking over and drawing an arm around his  
shoulders. "Thanks for calling me, Inspector."  
  
"Any time, Vecchio."  
  
It took awhile to get Fraser into the Riv, but once he did, Ray  
drove  
off with him and Dief. Thatcher said, "Back to work, people,"  
and  
Jasmine and Turnbull scattered.  
  
* * * * * *  
Later that day Thatcher sent Turnbull off on an errand and told  
him  
that he didn't have to return as it would be almost quitting time.  
Jasmine toiled over her computer, swearing under her breath as she hit  
the wrong key for the sixth time. She leaned back in her chair and  
wiped her sweating brow with a handkerchief. Her short dark hair was  
plastered to her forehead.  
  
"Hell of a day," Thatcher grumbled, plunking a folder on Jasmine's  
desk.  
  
"Yes, sir," Jasmine agreed. She noticed that her superior had  
unbuttoned her lace-trimmed blouse, and that pearly-white skin was  
showing. Very nice.  
  
Thatcher chose that moment to look up and their eyes met. Heat  
shimmered  
between them, the silence of the Consulate almost oppressive.  
  
"My office," Thatcher snapped.  
  
Jasmine hurried to obey, nearly tripping on the carpet. She stood  
at the desk while Thatcher closed the door. The Inspector put a hand  
on  
her shoulder and spun her around.  
  
It was fast, the heat between them, and their mouths met with  
molten  
fire. They plastered their bodies together, sweat sticking their  
legs to each other while their skirts hiked up. Thatcher slid her hand  
up Jasmine's skirt and was rewarded by a moan.  
  
Jasmine unbuttoned the rest of Thatcher's blouse and caressed the  
gleaming skin. Thatcher closed her eyes as Jasmine insinuated her and  
down into her bra. She jumped as Thatcher's hand touched between her  
legs.  
  
They parted, Thatcher ripping off her blouse and Jasmine pulling  
her skirt down and tossing it away. They quickly divested themselves  
of  
their outer clothing, clad only in bras and slips, then the slips  
went.  
Thatcher knelt and grabbed Jasmine's legs, burying her nose  
in her  
subordinate's crotch. Jasmine groaned as she felt the heat  
of  
Thatcher's face push against her.  
  
Thatcher pulled down the panties and began to lick at her  
partner's pussy, Jasmine shuddering as she parted her legs a little  
wider. Darting wetness sent tingles up her spine, and she felt  
weak-kneed.  
Thatcher had a brutal grip on her thighs.  
  
Jasmine's breasts brushed against Thatcher's hair, and Jasmine  
quickly  
removed her bra. Moist skin caressed the silky hair, and her  
nipples  
bounced lightly on the dark-brown mane. Thatcher continued  
licking,  
Jasmine orgasming and nearly collapsing. Her superior gently  
laid  
the smaller woman out on the floor and then began to suckle  
Jasmine's  
breasts.  
  
Jasmine moaned and pressed the heel of her hand up against the  
panties  
of her lover. She rubbed and teased and Thatcher groaned,  
removing  
the underwear and shuddering as Jasmine thrust a finger in and  
out  
of her wetness. Jasmine removed Thatcher's bra and pinched her  
nipples  
while finger-fucking her. Thatcher came, her wetness covering  
Jasmine's  
hand.  
  
Breathless, they stopped for a moment, then Thatcher let go of  
Jasmine's  
breast and spread her legs. She lay between then, stretching  
out  
her lean form, then buried her face between Jasmine's legs. Jasmine  
cried out and clutched her lover's hair. The sensations were too much  
to bear. She orgasmed again and again, spewing forth cries of "Fuck  
me!  
Fuck me!" as Thatcher's finger slipped into her anus.  
  
Thatcher lifted her head, hair damp and hanging, her lips  
swollen. She licked them and then thrust her breasts into Jasmine's  
face. Jasmine quickly began sucking on her nipples, her hand massaging  
Thatcher's pussy.  
  
They were wild animals, grunting in the heat as they sucked and  
licked  
and fucked for endless blissful moments, rubbing against each  
other  
and wrapping themselves around each other with shaking legs.  
Sweat  
gleamed on their bodies, hearts racing as they climaxed in frantic  
desperation.  
  
Finally they lay exhausted, Jasmine's hand resting lightly on  
Thatcher's  
belly. The Inspector opened her eyes and licked her lips.  
  
"Well, an...*interesting*...afternoon."  
  
Jasmine smiled. "Yes, sir."  
  
They got up and dressed, Jasmine boldly patting Thatcher's naked  
ass, then she buttoned up her superior's blouse and turned to leave the  
office. "See you tomorrow, sir."  
  
"Right."  
  
Jasmine picked up her purse and decided to stop by Fraser's  
apartment and see how he was doing. Maybe Ray would give him a little  
extra TLC tonight in this heat wave.  
  
She smiled as she walked down the main staircase, soaked in sweat  
and wearing a big grin plastered on her face.*  
  
  



End file.
